Wherever you are is the entry point – Kabir

For d.a.levy


For D.A. Levy…
Speaking in tongues
rattling in lungs
spilling into light,
out of darkness…

Watched Under Milk Wood tonight (Sunday Night) Delightful. Good memories. Nice to go back and think of Dylan Thomas again. ( I have resisted putting his poems up, such an obvious choice.)
I remember sitting with my friend Mike Conners, late, late, late into the night playing Dylan Thomas records in the old flat. We would of course would of been drinking for several hours before Dylan would appear on the record player. Our girl friends would be elsewhere, up to mischief but there we would sit, for hours, mouthing Dylan’s words as they sprang forth from the cheap speakers.
Tonight we tried to get Rowan to sit through it, but he fled, all verse, no prose. Someday soon, I am sure it will be a different story if I am lucky.
Today’s Log is dedicated to D.A. Levy. Wild poet, zine writer, explorer. Zen Buddhist, friends with many poets, writers. Denounced by the powers as a purveyor of obscenity; busted, tried, convicted. Hammered by the state, for his making 89 cents a day…
A couple of links, and finally, his poems.
putting bunny into trance…
rsstroom reader…
Poetry: D.A. Levy

2 love poems

she left in a whisper
without a trace
yet i remember
a last hungry kiss
her golden face
for a rainy day
we tried to save
pressed in books
like flowers from
a sun warmed day
years later to
open yellowing pages
to find those same
kisses – wilted and dry.
Selections From
The Burial Grounds of the Cat Nation
(portrait of a Young Man Trying to Eat the Sun)
A wreath of angels around the eye to OM
opens to no light
no light and the eye opens
to a quiet place of clouds
sun moon mountains water wind
the quiet place is no thought
the quiet place is a wreath of
angels around the eye to AUM opens to ecstasy
i live in the world noise
behind all the world noise is the quiet place
when i look for the quiet place
i sometimes find a pale horse
and ride to the clouds
sun moon mountains water wind
the pale horse disappears
when i am there
i look for the dry atmosphere
and the world ocean
i open the searchlights
when i open the searchlights do i
bring the quiet place here
in the quiet place
roars the ocean water
the ocean is silent
a child calling is answered
with laughter is absolute silence
in the quiet place
are clouds moving
the sound of the sun
the sound of the moon
is absolute silence
in the quiet place
are clouds moving
on the mountains
is the roar of waterfalls
is the snap of a snow covered branch breaking
the explosion of the mountain not moving
is absolute silence
in the quiet place
is the wind whistling
the wind picking me up
is absolute silence
i stop here/not knowing where i can not go – YET
but go into Now
the quiet place is a doorway
that opens to nothing
the return is thought
to stop is HERE I AM
the quiet place is a doorway
that opens to no time
all directions in no time
are like motions of light
[. . . ]
when leaving the body
one goes to the
Lotus of a Thousand Petals
getting there one must cross
his own mountains
everyone gets there
one leaves the body
one may leave the body by leaving
the body he writes ‘EXIT’ on his toe
he writes ‘EXIT’ on his navel
i leave by the crown of thorns
(this is the aperture of Brahma)
this is the Brahmarandhra
this is the way of the Tibetan monk
leaving the body
i tried to leave my body
by breaking down the walls
for seven years
i tried to leave my body
by breaking down the walls
when i found the door
i stuck one foot Out
thousands of birds singing
thousands of teakettles ringing
thousands of radio signals JAMMED on one channel
NOW i know where the door is
i struggle with my fear
each day i throw a spoonful
out the window
when leaving the body
one dies
but how many kinds of death are there?
when leaving the body
one does not look back
when leaving the body
one goes to the
Lotus of a Thousand Petals
getting there one must cross
his own mountains
Everyone gets there
(this is the time of the great light)
if there is a dark time
i will hide the body
in a world place
if waves of darkness sweep the beaches
of the world place seeking to carry
THE LIGHT away like sand
i will carry the light
to the Quiet Place
(this is the time of the great light)
is beyond inquisition
it illuminates the would be executioner
like the wind
moves clouds sun moon mountains water
moves like birds to an internal island
that is found with the eye
one can reach the island by going there
(this is the time of the great light)
the great light carries everything
one finds the great light in dreams
if one carries the great light
from the deep sleep
into the waking dream
one becomes a man
no one sees men
men are hidden by lies
the great men enter the dreams
of others
with the great light
others become great men
the great men move on like
the wind moves
clouds sun moon mountains water
(this is the time of the great light)
the great light is everywhere
one finds the great light
by opening the eye
one opens the eye with love
AFTER the first police putsch
on the cities
information sources
& magician s
UNI*Corpsed from psycho
logical operations
similar to those musically
performed at well known
rest resorts like Dachau &
San Diego/
strange figures.
rose from beneath the
streets of medina marble &
(gave me the first
christmas ive had in years)
new family
of the sun
i feel—-
funny thing
a dark winter night
5 years & finally
the moon is setting on the
/chicago poets
do not understand
my pottery/
after 8 yrs writing
& 4 yrs printing
& being very poor
& being romantic (only enuf to
fill in the nothingness of
being a poet in america)
(spelled peon)
the years disapated
& i havent anything
except sum unbelievable
beautiful friends with
tears in their eyes & i havent anything
to say
my name is myself
the pencil dead in my hand again
how is this connection made?
ink – pencil suddenly sucking
my brain cells dry –
is it that i become
in tune with the
consciousness of the
it is when the
ink starts spurting from
the pen like sperm
& the ecstasy
moves upward
between the eyes
i am beyond
physical matter
i am beyond myself NOW
who is this speaking from
beyond the strings of this
i hiding?
(something from Cleveland)
look there first i say to
& unlike the city
i cannot sweep it under the carpet
& ask the federal govt. for help
i cannot even drive to hunting valley
& watch the policemen deliver news-
next week tho,
when the zipper on my levi’s is fixed
i’ll put on my numbered dungaree shirt
& go to Collinwood
burn incense at Five Points
& buy Kumara’s brother at Norms
that is, if im not arrested
for some serious violation
like enticing a minor
to jaywalk.


sitting on a bench near TSQuare
by d.a.levy
(for David Meltzer)
through the branches of
the thin trees of tenth street
the blue sky waits
with me &
im waiting for god
(on a white horse)
to ride thru the
branches of
the lower east side
before returning to
& something
tells me
he isnt coming
im a levy of the levites
yet in cleveland
i have painted myself
& am feeling
something like an outlaw
the druids give me soup
& think im a lama
its been close to 7 years
ive been looking for god
& the trails wearing as
thin as the trees on tenth street
i am a levy of the levites
& last week
a fanatic jew in the heights
called me a halfbreed
because my mother was a christian
i am a levy of the levites
& last week a rabbi
thought i was kidding
when i told him
i was interested in judaism
god i think yr sense
of humor is sad
& perhaps you are also
feeling something
like an outlaw
god i am wondering
for how many years
have the jews
exiled you
while they busied themselves
with survival
d.a levy (from Wikipedia)
d.a. levy (1942-1968) was a Cleveland, Ohio-based artist, poet and alternative publisher active during the 1960s. d.a. levy was born Darryl Allan Levy on October 29, 1942 to Joseph J. and Carolyn Levy living on Cleveland’s near West side. Toward the end of his high school years and later, during a short stint in the Navy, levy became frustrated with his perceived lack of respect from authority figures and turned to poetry as an outlet for his frustrations. He later found creative outlet in publishing on a small printing press. During this time he also discovered spiritual outlet in Buddhism. levy published his own and other’s works, printed on his hand press or a mimeograph through his Renegade Press and Seven Flowers Press. His poetry and political activities kept him in trouble with the law. In 1966 he was indicted for distributing obscene poetry to minors. He was arrested again in 1967, prompting a benefit reading on May 14, 1967 on the Case Institute of Technology campus which drew such figures as Allen Ginsberg, Tuli Kupferberg and the Fugs. levy committed suicide on November 24, 1968 at the age of 26.

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